The Gambler: Part II
by Palace of Ice
Summary: Nikola embarks on the road to perdition in London's illegal gambling dens and the red-light district. Meanwhile, he struggles to keep his secret vices separate from his respectable position as a math professor at Oxford. Unfortunately, his double life begins to converge in his growing attraction to his student Helen Magnus. Warnings: S/M, prostitution, Mother-complex.


The Gambler: Part II

Nikola swirled his spoon through the rapidly cooling soup. The table he was sitting at used to be the one they always sat at when they went to this cafe for lunch. The seat across from him was where Kenneth used to sit. The Irishman had liked the view of the door and would whisper little comments about each person that entered into Nikola's ear. Sometimes they were mocking but often they were just sweet little facts: That man there feeds the neighborhood cats. She has a cute but naughty son who broke their neighbors' window. The old man used to be a soldier, that's why he's missing a thumb. Nikola sighed and pushed the soup away. He couldn't eat. He hailed the waiter, paid and walked back to work.

Oxford was rather beautiful in the fall, despite the cold and overcast weather. The students appeared cheerful and lively in the nippy air, and seemed somewhat more attentive in his advanced mathematics classes. Despite his good fortune in receiving these diligent new students, Nikola was still bored by teaching and morose from the loss of his lover.

Dr. Kenneth Kelly, professor of music theory and composition; he of the long blonde hair and sea blue eyes, the charming Irish lilt and the boyish fox-like laugh. The man who had befriended the lonely Serb, bonded with him over their mutual foreignness to England, seduced him and then left him for a woman. Nikola's only lover had chosen to marry a French heiress with a lovely soprano voice, connections to the Philharmonie de Paris, and apparently, a townhouse that they were to occupy as man and wife in a few months. Then, the desolate mathematician supposed, he would never see Kenneth again.

The day finally drew to a close, the sun set and Nikola felt the tight burn of anxiety in his stomach. He grabbed his briefcase and walked rapidly toward his destination, hunting out the dark street corners of town, searching for the only thing that could buy him a few hours of forgetfulness, a card game.

Greeted by his fellow gamblers like a brother, they poured him shots of gin until he pulled out his money and started betting. "Yes, deal me in, and let me ride the wheel of fortune to its heights!" he laughed, seeming so carefree and young, for just a moment.

...

"You know, you could go professional!" The scraggly old man, who introduced himself as Stanford, said earnestly to the young professor. Nikola was lighting another cigarette with the butt of the last one and shrugged, uncaring. "No really, listen to me! The fellows here are tired of playing against someone who takes all their money from them then gives it back at the end of the night, and surely you must be getting bored with that too."

Nikola sighed, "Well, yes, but I already have a job-" Stanford waved it off, interrupting, "Sure, I know you do, but you have all weekend to play. Take the salary you get and make it multiply! There must be something that you want but can't afford." Nikola shook his head depressed, "No amount of money can get me what I desire..." he mumbled, staring at the ground. "Ah, problems with love, is it? Don't worry; when you're rich you'll be flooded with ladies, all vying for your attentions. You'll forget your heartbreak not only with more exciting games of chance but with a new woman by your side every night, each prettier and more pleasant than the last!"

Nikola heard the word 'forget' and looked up interested for a moment. "Well, maybe it could help distract me..." Stanford nodded enthusiastically, "Of course! Let me take you to London. The games there are so much better at keeping a man distracted. Not to mention the other services."

...

Nikola swept through the underground casinos of London like a storm, sampling every game of chance they had to offer: faro, baccarat, whist, roulette and what was gradually becoming his favorite, 21. Originating in France where it was called vingt-et-un, it was a simple game yet surprisingly challenging. Unlike pure games of chance such as roulette or bluffing games like poker, Nikola sensed that 21 offered him an intellectual challenge as well as the thrill of risk. There must be some way to calculate the probability of a winning hand, and thus enjoy a continuous advantage... But, for the most part he was winning enough that he didn't give it much thought and simply enjoyed himself.

...

Nikola was heading back to his hotel when a greasy looking fellow stepped into his path. "Sir! I have here the most titillating literature, complete with illustrations, that you will find anywhere in this great city! Simply give me one moment of your time and view my wares! I assure you, they are of the highest quality, extremely rare yet reasonably priced!"

Unable to make his way around the aggressive street hawker, Nikola threw his hands in the air in disgust, "Fine! If I look at it will you let me go?" The salesman of illicit books nodded eagerly and whipped out one of his tomes of iniquity. "The Romance of Lust! It's about a young man's sexual awakening and how it leads him down a path of pleasurable depravity!" Nikola laughed, "A sexual bildungsroman! I'll pass." The undaunted salesman whipped out another, "The Nunnery Tales-" "Ugh! Disgusting!" Nikola rolled his eyes and attempted to get around the seller of depraved literature, but the man kept on him like fleas on a cat. "Sorry! So, that's not to your taste. I have others." He pulled out "The Lustful Turk-" "Fuck the Turks!" "Alright, how about...The Recollections of a Maryanne. This one is about a young man who sells his body to-" Nikola shook his head, "That's terribly sad."

The undaunted salesman felt he was closing in for the kill. "Here's a better one. Venus in Furs is the story of a man who falls in love with a beautiful woman and offers himself as her slave." Noticing his prospective customer hesitate, he quickly pulled open the book to show an illustration of a naked man kneeling at a gorgeous woman's feet. Nikola took a moment to examine it. The quality of the etching was rather nice... He pulled away from it and asked the salesman abruptly, "Well, are you satisfied? I looked at your wares, now let me pass." The greasy fellow smirked, fairly sure he had his customer's number.

"There's only one left, the most popular of my inventory, "The Mysteries of Verbena House, set in a boarding school. The students commit various crimes and naughty acts and the headmistress is forced to have them disciplined!"

The illustration showed a person bent over, bottom bare and covered with stripes from the lash of a stern looking suited man, overseen by the matronly headmistress. Noting that he had his customer's rapt attention the salesman flipped to another illustration depicting the nude student curled on the ground, hiding their face in humiliation, as the headmistress applied a cane to their abused hindquarters. Yes, this book was his best seller by far. That was why he always saved it for last.

Nikola cleared his throat and tugged on his collar, wishing he could loosen his tie a bit, then looked the salesman in the eye. "Well, it's very nice, but I should really get back to my hotel." The street hawker sighed, disappointed, but still had one more ace up his sleeve, "Please accept my card if you change your mind. I receive my mail at Madame Ritter's House of Punishment." He pointed out the address on the card then let the finely dressed young gambler pass, hoping that he would see him again soon.

...

Nikola pulled out the card the next day. "House of Punishment?" He wondered if it were some kind of sign. In the inside pocket of his jacket was another unopened letter from his mother. He couldn't bring himself to read her letters, imagining the disappointment she would feel if she knew that he had broken his promise to her.

He remembered vividly how her large dark eyes had been filled with such sadness when the police had brought him home from Slovenia. He had continued gambling, playing cards in the street, humiliating her. He kept gambling even after his father died and her eyes were red from crying. He had asked her for money while she stood in an empty house wearing widow's black. She gave him every cent she owned, making her own bet; that his love for her was stronger than his obsession. More than that, it was as though she were saying, 'Take everything. I will still love you.' Unable to go through with taking her money, he had cried like a child and pressed his face into her soft bosom. "I'm sorry, mama. I'll never gamble again!" he swore, and yet here he was, a gambler once more. Truly, what he deserved was punishment.

...

He had won a tidy sum on his second favorite game, baccarat, and decided to visit Madame Ritter's House of Punishment. Perhaps he could make up for his betrayal of his principles with some physical suffering. Maybe it would soothe his conscience enough that he could at least bear to read his mother's letters.

The address on the card led him to a non-descript building and a sturdy plain door with a slot in it. He rapped smartly on the door and the slot slid open to reveal a pair of suspicious icy blue eyes. He asked politely if she was Madame Ritter and when she answered cautiously in the affirmative he let her know that he was a potential customer. The cold reception instantly melted, the door was thrown open and he was greeted like a long lost son.

"Oh my dear boy, you have come to the right place! I have just the girl for you, or rather a woman! Don't worry about a thing from here on out, I will see to it that you are completely satisfied!" The middle-aged woman spoke with a pronounced Austrian accent. Nikola smiled, reminded of home where several of his neighbors had been Austrians. He addressed her in perfect German, "Ich bin Ihnen sehr dankbar für." She giggled delighted, then replied in German that he need not be so formal with her and to save his thanks for afterward.

They proceeded to a door with a little plaque on it that read 'Anna.' Madame Ritter knocked sharply on the door and a tall, dark haired woman opened it. "Anna, please take good care of Mr., ah-" "Tesla." "Yes, Mr. Tesla!" She quickly left the two of them alone and Anna beckoned for him to step inside. He looked about curiously, never having been in a brothel before, and noted the expected wash basin, bed and other furnishings, but what was most interesting was the padded rack with four rings at its base, one for each limb. It was obviously intended to restrain a person over it, so that they were bent over, their buttocks the highest part of their body, utterly helpless.

Anna addressed him in broken English. He asked her politely in each language if she spoke German, Italian, Czech or French. To each inquiry she shook her head, looking progressively more amused. Finally, out of curiosity he tried his native language only to see her eyes open wide in surprise. She exclaimed, "сербский!" and he replied, "Да, Српски." But she shook her head and said carefully, "I am Russian." He nodded and shrugged, resigned to the lack of communication.

Anna approached him and began efficiently undressing him. Nikola blushed but allowed her to do her work. After all, this is what he had come here for. Once he was naked she led him over to the rack, pulled a set of chains out and clipped his ankles to each ring one at a time. Then she gently pressed on his back, encouraging him to lean over the rack. He resisted slightly at first, suddenly leery of the whole situation. Anna smiled indulgently at him. "You want this?" she asked gently, stroking his shoulder. Nikola looked into her dark eyes. They held no malice, only good humor. He smiled, nodded shyly and let her guide him over the rack. She wrapped the chain around each wrist and clipped them lightly to the rings on the other side of the rack. He was now in position for punishment.

Nikola could not see much, bent over as he was, his buttocks exposed to Anna's tender mercies. He heard her taking a few practice swings through the air with some implement but he didn't even know what kind. Was it a whip, a cane, a simple belt of leather? He had no clue. He shifted around nervously as she let the suspense build.

"Bad boy!" she scolded, then hit him hard. Nikola jumped and hissed in pain. It was a cane and it really hurt! The stripe of flesh the cane made contact with stung terribly and began to swell. Anna rubbed her hand across it, her seemingly soothing motion added to the pain. Nikola squirmed and groaned a protest, "No, just hit me. Don't touch." Anna hummed an agreement then laid into him again. This time the blow brought tears to his eyes. This second stripe intersected with the first at one point, leaving a lurid bruise. Nikola gasped as the pain blossomed with the bruise and pressed into the padding of the rack as his body obeyed the instinct to flee. 'I deserve this pain.' he thought and forced himself away from the rack. "More!" he cried. After the third blow he lost count. Each blow seemed harder than the last, and the pain became exponentially more unbearable. He cried out involuntarily with every agonizing impact. Tears dripped off his face onto the floor next to the rack. His legs trembled in the pauses between blows.

He imagined how he must look to Anna, a virtual stranger, watching him cry and tremble like a frightened child and simultaneously felt humiliated and aroused. Anna clucked disapprovingly as his erection grew and chastised him, "Dirty!" She lifted his balls with the cane causing him to jump and whimper in fear. She laughed lowly, "I am not so bad..." let them drop, then struck his buttocks again. The pain exploded across Nikola's mind, leaving him gasping and sobbing.

Anna crooned to him in Russian, apparently charmed by his undone, helpless state. Her voice sounded teasing and the roughly one third of her words he could vaguely understand sounded complimentary.

His mind drifted in a haze of agony then settled on a memory of his mother punishing him for cutting down stalks of wheat with his toy sword, pretending he was defending his home from hordes of terrifying Turks. She had mocked his play with the same tone of voice, made him lay across her lap, then gave him a sound thrashing. Afterward she had kissed his tears away and hugged him to her soft bosom. Forgiveness felt so sweet...Would she ever forgive him now? The cane whistled through the air and struck his body with a shock. He cried out helplessly, "мамица, извините!"

Anna had heard those words a hundred times before in at least a dozen different languages. For some reason men always begged for their mother's forgiveness while being beaten. She reached between Nikola's legs and stroked his erection rapidly. He panted and moaned as the pain mixed with pleasure in his body, just as guilt mixed with relief in his mind. He came abruptly with a grunt, startled by the involuntary actions of his body.

He still felt disconnected from himself as Anna swiftly unbound his hands and feet. She pulled out a handkerchief and showed it to him. "Yours, good?" Nikola stared at it for a moment then realized it was his own handkerchief. He nodded absently then stood docilely while she wiped his face then his genitals.

She led him over to a love seat, sat down with him there, then pulled him into her arms. Cradling him against her, she encouraged him with her hands to snuggle against her breasts. They were wonderfully soft and warm. Even through the cheap cotton of her dress, their full contours were soothing. She took his hand and placed it on her breast. Cradling its weight in his palm he gently squeezed it. Anna sighed and cooed sweetly at him in Russian.

After a while, she urged Nikola to his feet and helped him get dressed. With expert hands she straightened his collar, tied his tie and smoothed his hair. Caressing his cheek gently with a smile she led him to a full-length mirror to check his appearance. "Good?" Nikola nodded. No one would be able to tell from looking at him what he had just been through.

...

Nikola had created a regular routine of sin and redemption every weekend. He set up a monthly account with Madame Ritter who was overjoyed to have such regular patronage. Careful as she was never to pry into her customer's lives, she nevertheless ended up learning quite a bit about the handsome young gambler as before his appointments with Anna he enjoyed the opportunity to speak German with her over tea.

She learned that he felt compelled to calculate the amount of tea was in his cup before he could drink it, which was very odd but certainly not the weirdest thing she had ever seem a customer do. He told her that he had just lost a lover to another, causing him terrible heartbreak, and that consequently he had broken a vow to his mother to stop gambling and felt extremely guilty about it. He mentioned that he was receiving letters from his mother every few weeks asking how he was doing living in England and if he planned to marry soon. The young gambler was so tied to his mother's apron strings the matronly Madame found him terribly cute and amusing.

"My dear, I am glad our services have been helpful to you. No doubt, over time the punishment will serve to correct the errors of your ways and you will find yourself losing interest in games of chance and catch the eye of a respectable lady who may become your wife!" Madame Ritter often gave the same speech, presenting her establishment as a sort of therapy that of course required regular application for a sufficiently long period to bear results.

Nikola laughed merrily, "I don't know that I'm the marrying kind, so my mother may be disappointed in that, but she tells me every letter that she is so happy to hear from me, no matter what." Madame Ritter smiled indulgently. "What a lucky young man you are to have such a loving mother. I know she would forgive you in an instant if she ever found out about your gambling."

Nikola looked at her with large, sad eyes, "I could never hurt her that way. It's better that she never know, so she can imagine a better version of me." Madame Ritter nodded solemnly, "I understand. Despite your flaws, you are still a dutiful son who wants to protect his mother's feelings." She frowned and thought, 'Truly this boy is too sweet for the world he is falling into...'

...

Helen concluded the exam, measured out some simple medicine for the girl's cough and handed it to her along with her card. "You're lucky. It's not consumption, merely irritation from coal smoke. Just take a tablespoon twice a day. When you need more write me at this address." The girl nodded and replied obediently, "Yes Miss Magnus, I will." She couldn't have been much more than fourteen.

Helen sighed and in her gentlest voice asked her how many customers she saw each night. The girl replied on a good night six or seven and on a slow night one or two. "Do you use a rubber?" The girl shook her head no and Helen swallowed slowly, saddened by this news.

"Here take this one. Use it and clean it out with soap and water after every customer. If you don't, eventually the odds will catch up with you and you will get sick. You might have to stop working. Customers will refuse you even more than with this cough if you look ill. It's possible you might catch something serious and die."

The girl nodded and promised to try. Helen supposed that was the best she could hope for, packed her medical bag and left. Walking through the red-light district of London was bad enough for a lady, but the days were growing shorter and when she left the bordello she stepped into the darkness. Helen clutched her bag a bit tighter and walked quickly toward the train station, hoping to avoid any trouble. As she turned the corner she spied a tall, handsomely dressed man coming out of one of the 'blind tigers' as the underground gambling houses were known. 'Isn't that...? It's Professor Tesla!' She could not believe her eyes.

Dr. Tesla stopped to light a cigarette and she took the opportunity to stare at him. He had slicked back his hair instead of the usual part in the middle. That combined with a gorgeous gray and white suit, made him look quite the roguish dandy. 'What on earth...?' Helen supposed that everyone had a private life but, even so, Dr. Tesla was the last person she would have expected to see here.

He took a couple drags on his cigarette then walked with purpose toward the quarter where she knew several houses of pleasure were located. 'Is he going to spend his winnings on...!?' Helen was both angry and concerned. Was he one of the six or seven customers that her patient and a hundred other girls like her, were forced by poverty to see every night? Helen trailed after her professor, not sure what she would do if she saw him enter one of the brothels but unable to just let him go.

He rapped smartly on the door of an unmarked building, greeted a middle aged woman through the slot and was promptly let in. He was obviously a regular at this establishment, whatever it was... There was no sign, and she had never heard anything about the place from any of her contacts in the red light district. What was this place? Curious and desiring to help all of the women employed at every establishment, she decided to knock on the door after enough time elapsed that Dr. Tesla would likely be occupied.

After fifteen minutes or so, Helen was not too concerned about running into him inside, but was willing to face him if necessary. She was rather afraid that he would be angry at the violation of his privacy and that she might lose one of the few cordial teacher-student relationships she had at Oxford, but the moral duty she felt gave her courage.

She knocked on the door and met the same icy blue gaze that Dr. Tesla had not long before. While they lit up with happy recognition for the young man, for her they had a speculative air. "Can I help you miss?" Helen smiled her most charming smile. "Yes, my friend Dr. Tesla was just here. I was hoping to check up on him. Would you mind letting me in?" " _Doctor_ Tesla...?" The woman mused under her breath, then opened the door letting Helen in.

...

Madame Ritter led the blonde to her sitting room and offered her tea. As the woman collected herself, the Madame assessed her as she would any woman, as a potential employee. 'She looks near thirty, a good age for my clients' preferences. Full bosom, stern and serious mouth, even when she tries to put on a harmless air and charming smile. Beautiful hands that are nevertheless large enough to be strong. Yes, she would make a great addition to the lineup here.'

"I am known as Madame Ritter here, and you are Miss..?" The blonde smiled in a practiced fashion, produced her card and handed it to the Madame. "Miss Magnus. I am a medical student and am working here to improve the health of working women." Madame Ritter raised a brow surprised. She had not encountered such a thing before. Evidently Miss Magnus was not in search of a job, but...perhaps she could be persuaded.

There were many women that were seduced into such a lucrative and comfortable position, despite it technically being prostitution. Sex work was one of the very few ways that a woman could make and keep her own money. "And, you know...Doctor...Tesla how?" Madame Ritter watched Miss Magnus carefully, noticing the slight signs of nervousness. "Ah, well, I am one of his students-" "You seem rather old to be in school." Madame Ritter's slight against Miss Magnus' age was intentional; she hoped that anger would make her let something slip and indeed she did. "Not too old for university."

Madame Ritter was surprised to hear this bit of information. Her guilty young gambler and current best customer was a university professor?! Suddenly the things that Anna had told her about Mr. Tesla began to make a lot of sense. A Serbian who spoke six languages was very strange unless it turned out he was some sort of genius. "Ah, at Oxford then?" Madame Ritter guessed, figuring that if he taught at London University she would be seeing him every day rather than weekends only. Miss Magnus nodded, "He teaches advanced mathematics." Madame Ritter was unsurprised. That explained the man's strange obsession with numbers.

Madame Ritter was starting to understand Miss Magnus' business here and why she was looking for Dr. Tesla. "I assure you, your friend is in good hands here. I run a clean and safe business. All my employees and their clients are treated well and maintaining their health is of utmost concern to me. You have no need to worry."

Miss Magnus shook her head, frustrated, "Half the brothels in the city have told me the same, but fully one third of their girls are malnourished and have chronic respiratory diseases, and one in ten has some form of venereal disease. Half of them are unaware that protective devices such as condoms even exist, much less use them. I would like permission to examine your employees, give them any medicines or equipment they require. I assure you, it will cost you nothing. If anything, it will benefit your business."

Madame Ritter laughed at the obviously well-rehearsed and practiced speech. "I think you need to know more about our services. Then you will realize how little we need your help. Please follow me." The Madame led Miss Magnus down the hall to an unmarked, locked door. The room was quite plain with only a few chairs. Strangely they all faced the walls rather than the center of the room. Madame Ritter gestured to one of the chairs and watched as the blonde sat obediently. Coming up beside her, the Madame reached for and uncovered a small circle of metal embedded in the wall. "It's a peep hole. Take a look and you will understand why we don't require your services."

...

Helen looked through the peep hole to see a truly shocking scene. Accustomed as she was to nudity, working with prostitutes it was generally of the female variety. She could see a pair of bruised buttocks, obviously belonging to a male by the sex hanging between bare thighs. Helen flinched when a fully dressed woman brutally whipped the already abused flesh, causing the man to cry out sharply.

Helen pulled away from the peep hole and looked to Madame Ritter for an explanation. "Anna is going easy on him today because last time he rather overdid it with a caning. He could hardly bear to sit afterwards, she left so many bruises!" Helen asked incredulously, "You mean to tell me that men pay your establishment to be punished like school boys?"

Madame Ritter began her own well-rehearsed and practiced speech. "Men often feel great pressure to control themselves, their employees, wives, students. So much so that their willpower can become overwhelmed and they become subject to irresistible urges that they themselves detest. Giving in to these compulsions causes guilt that can only be expiated through a cycle of punishment and forgiveness. Our services allow such men to gradually make progress toward breaking the hold of their obsessions."

Helen raised a dubious brow, "Or perhaps the expiation of guilt enables them to continue their corrupt ways." The Madame shrugged, "Perhaps it depends on the man." Helen shook her head and went back to the peep hole. The cries had stopped and turned into low moans instead. Helen spied the woman grasping the male member and efficiently milking it, causing it to ejaculate several thin streams of white onto a prepared cloth on the floor. She then bent down, unbound the naked man and helped him up.

Helen couldn't help but be shocked at the sight of her professor in such a state. The woman, Anna, wiped the tears tenderly from his face, then just as gently wiped his softening member. Dr. Tesla looked terribly shy and boyish as he was led by the hand to a plush loveseat. There Anna encouraged him to snuggle into her chest, stroked his hair and spoke lovingly to him in a foreign language. This intimate and emotional scene was finally too much for Helen and she pulled away from the peep hole and covered it.

"Well, I can see why you don't need my services. There is no intercourse, no fluids being exchanged, and I assume all cloth and leather is cleaned after each use?" Madame Ritter nodded firmly, "Everything is washed in boiling water and with soap. Our policy is to clean the customer up with his own handkerchief and to use brand new floggers when they wish the punishment to draw blood. That way there is no possible contamination by foreign germs." Helen nodded along until she heard the words 'to draw blood.'

"You mean to say that some of these men ask to be beaten bloody?" she asked incredulously. Madame Ritter nodded most seriously, "Yes, and they pay handsomely for it too." A sly look crossed her face and she remarked, "Many women would love to do our work; to be paid for one hour's work, punishing a wicked man, what most girls make in a month at a brothel, or in six months doing piece work." Helen was astounded by the amount. It was clear these women did not need any charity from anyone!

Madame Ritter looked at a silver backed time-piece and motioned that Helen should stay put. "Mr. Tesla should be coming out now. I will see him out while you consider what I have said." The woman said the last quite suggestively, seeming to hint that Helen might wish to whip a man bloody in exchange for riches, then left the room.

Helen shook her head bemused by the turn of events. This was stranger than she could possibly have imagined. Going over what she had witnessed in her mind's eye she briefly considered if she had found the sight of a man naked, in such a humiliating pose, crying out in pain and so on, enjoyable in the least. After a moment of consideration she concluded no, it was not something she gained any pleasure from, despite the fact that men had harmed her in the past. She certainly did not like seeing her quiet and dignified teacher laid low like this, and wished he were not doing this to himself, despite the evidence that he seemed to enjoy it sexually.

Her mind drifted to the last thing she had seen; Dr. Tesla curled naked in that woman Anna's lap, relaxed and content, nuzzling and groping her breasts like a child with his mother. Something about that...she found herself becoming aroused at the memory. The interaction had appeared so loving and tender; innocent yet clearly sexual at the same time. Suddenly, she pictured herself in Anna's position, cradling that lovely dark-haired head, gazing into wide gray-blue eyes, feeling warm affectionate hands and soft lips caressing her breasts...

Madame Ritter's return interrupted her reverie. Helen stood abruptly and headed to the door. "Well, it was very nice meeting you. Please continue looking after Dr. Tesla and don't let him know I violated his privacy this way. I'm sure it would just embarrass him needlessly." She swept out of the establishment as quickly as possible, hurriedly making her way to catch the train back home to Oxford.

...

Helen did her best to appear normal in class the next day. Her professor certainly seemed to have that mastered. If she had not witnessed his personal peccadillos she would have never dreamed that he was up to such things every weekend. Yet, his innocent mien did not seem an affectation. He still seemed the same gentleman as before, polite and restrained.

Forced as she was as his student to stare at the man for three hours two days a week, she had on occasion had thoughts about the man's appearance. He had such an elegant lean body, gorgeous hands, hypnotic eyes. And his heavy accent made his tenor voice captivatingly exotic.

After class he waved her aside, "Come to my office and I will talk with you about your special project." Helen soon found herself in the confined space of Dr. Tesla's office. The privacy of the space was terribly intimate she realized fully for the first time. They could be doing anything in here, behind closed doors, rather than discussing mathematics. Her new perspective made her flustered and nervous.

"One of the many applications of probability theory involves games. I would like you to focus on games of chance such as cards. This should prove sufficiently challenging for you, I believe." Helen nodded, hiding a smile at his choice of assignment. Of course a gambler would choose card games. "That does sound good, but I must confess I know very few card games that involve chance. Truly, solitaire and gin are all I have played."

Dr. Tesla hummed thoughtfully then shrugged, "I'll just teach you then. You shouldn't take long to pick up the rules." Helen laughed lowly, "Will you teach me to wager as well? I do believe you might be corrupting my morals, Dr. Tesla!" A coquettish air crept into her tone, surprising both of them. "Miss Magnus! I would never...!" Dr. Tesla replied in a scandalized tone. Helen winced and blushed at her misstep. "I'm sorry professor. That was improper of me."

An awkward silence ensued, until Dr. Tesla shattered it with an abrupt laugh. "Had you going there for a moment didn't I?" Helen mouth dropped open, "You...! Oh, I'll get you back for that, somehow!" Dr. Tesla eyes sparkled as he replied, "I'm sure you will."

...

Professor and student had fallen into a routine, meeting after every class to work on the probabilities of winning hands in various card games. Dr. Tesla was a wonderful mentor, patient and nurturing. He led Helen toward her own conclusions rather than simply telling her all he knew. Once, in response to her questioning if this was a teaching method he had learned, he simply said it was to foster her independence of thought with the aim of eventually making her his equal. It brought tears to her eyes, she was so moved by his confidence in her ability. She truly felt that it was the best teacher-student relationship she had ever had.

As they grew closer, she had expected to be gradually less troubled by the carnal urges she had developed toward him after witnessing his intimate secrets, but instead found herself experiencing the opposite. The urge to touch him, the back of his hand, perhaps his arm through the sleeve of his coat, to lay her palm on top of his slim thigh and feel its warmth through the fine wool...it was a continuous invasion of her thoughts, every moment that she was with him.

Over time she felt the urge to confess that she knew about his secret sins, and that she nevertheless still respected him. It was then that she knew she had fallen in love with him. This realization filled her with both joy and terror. How could she ever love a man, even one as good as her dear teacher, after what had happened to her last time?

...

"It has been said that men and women are natural enemies, that one must be either the hammer or the anvil, so long as their upbringing and education are different. But I wonder if there is more to it than that..." Miss Magnus opined from her chair across from him at the cafe.

Nikola inquired, "How so?" Truly her thoughts were as interesting and cogent as a man's, and he had come to respect her opinions.

"People often bring up differing biology as the cause, yet somehow get diverted into specific physiological differences such as brain size or some such while ignoring the obvious. Women give birth and until the discovery of germ theory, they fairly often died doing so. How can society invest heavily in the education of those who must not only survive childhood illnesses but also the real possibility of death nine months after every productive sexual act?"

Nikola smiled at her frank audacity in discussing the facts of life even in public. "Yes, the education of women is sometimes thought of as a luxury, and though no one mentions premature death as a cause, it is no doubt part of the reason." He commented.

Miss Magnus nodded resolutely and continued, "Furthermore, the voiced reasoning is that women spend most of their time raising the children that result from such activity, and any education they have is thus wasted, an opinion that is for the most part true."

Nikola nodded but qualified his agreement, "For the most part yes, but it cannot be denied that an intelligent and educated mother is a great asset to her children. My own mother is illiterate but incredibly intelligent. She was a great inspiration and help to me growing up. She taught me so many things, skills that I still use today."

Miss Magnus smiled warmly at his words, "She must be the cause of your great respect for women." Nikola happily agreed. His mother was a goddess to him and every woman, no matter how incomprehensible he found them, or how lowly their place in society, was a being deserving of courtesy and protection from the ugly side of life.

"Going back to the idea that if men and women's educations were identical, they could then be equals, well, supposing that women could expect to routinely survive childbirth and were somehow relieved of the burden of child rearing, it would certainly seem to be possible, but of course, those are rather large hurdles as of yet. No, I think that the ancient Greeks had the more practical solution for our current circumstance. A woman must remain ever chaste, never to marry or give birth, if she wishes to be certain to retain those rights and privileges most often reserved for men only."

Nikola raised a brow, "I assume that this is the principle that you yourself live by?" Miss Magnus nodded, "Indeed. I am a woman as devoted to my work as a wife to her husband."

Nikola found this attitude extremely admirable. If only he too were so strong of will and pure of intention. He sighed longingly, "I wish I were as passionate about my work as you are. Perhaps if I had been able to study physics, it might have been different."

Miss Magnus cocked her head in puzzlement, "You mean to say that mathematics was not your first choice?" Nikola nodded looking down at his hands in his lap, somewhat embarrassed that he had told her something so personal.

"I'm surprised. You're so good at it, and you are a very good teacher, the best I've ever had in fact." Nikola looked up at her surprised. "Is that so? Well, it's probably just that I enjoy teaching you. In fact, I enjoy your conversation and your company very much." Miss Magnus blushed. "Oh, thank you, Dr. Tesla."

Nikola smiled at her crookedly. Somehow he wished she would call him Nikola instead, but he knew it was impossible.

...

"Have you figured out how to calculate the probability of a perfect twenty one occurring in one deck? **"** Helen nodded then wrote her solution on the small chalkboard in Professor Tesla's office and explained her reasoning.

"The probability that the first card is an ace is 4/52. The probability that the second card is a 10 point card is 16/51. So the probability of an ace first perfect twenty one is (4/52)*(16/51). Multiply this by 2 because the ten could just as easily be the first card and the answer is 2*(4/52)*(16/51) = 128/2652 = 0.0482655, or about 1 in 20.7 ."

Dr. Tesla smiled warmly at her. "Lovely." Helen gazed into her professor's gray-blue eyes, charmed. An unseen connection floated between them, hanging like incense in the air. Helen felt almost intoxicated by their mutual admiration for each other. To her, his gentle praise was as divine and heady as fine wine.

"The odds of winning are best in twenty one compared to baccarat or worst of all faro. I hope you don't play that game." Helen said, soft concern in her voice. Dr. Tesla blinked startled, and the bubble of warm intimacy vanished. "What do you mean?" he mumbled, uncharacteristically rigid, frozen and pale.

Helen blushed, realizing her slip, "Oh, ah, I, well, I know that you...gamble." She stammered and trailed off awkwardly as she watched Dr. Tesla pale even more, his eyes widening in shock. "Шта...? Ah, how do you know?" He sounded almost bewildered, unable to believe what she had said.

Helen swallowed nervously and confessed that she had witnessed him come out of a 'blind tiger' while she was in the red light district of London treating some of her young female patients. Dr. Tesla paled to an alarming degree and swayed on his feet. "Oh my! Please sit!" Helen exclaimed, grabbed him by the arm and guided him to his chair, recognizing the signs of fainting.

Dr. Tesla hid his face in his hands, elbows leaning on his knees, and muttered, "I did it to myself..." "What...?" Helen inquired softly, hands awkwardly hovering over her professor's shoulders, wishing to comfort him. Alarmed by his unresponsiveness she attempted to console him. "Dr. Tesla-" He shook his head muttering "No, no, no..." under his breath. Even more alarmed Helen gave in to the urge to grab his shoulders. "N-Nikola...?" she whispered hesitantly, afraid of his reaction.

He raised his head, a pained expression on his worried face. "I'm sorry." he said softly, agony in his eyes. Helen leaned closer, "It's alright. I respect you still, no matter what." Nikola opened his mouth, breathing in shakily. "Really?" Helen smiled a soft sad smile. "Yes, you're my teacher. And, beyond that I'm your friend. You're only human..." Nikola took her hands and kissed them. "I'm so sorry." he continued to whisper over and over. Helen let him hold her hands and reassured him, "Don't worry. I know you'll get over this soon, I'm sure of it."

...

Nikola closed the door and locked it after Helen left. He thanked her for her kindness and asked her for some privacy to collect himself. He sat dazed in his chair, too sad to even cry. He was such a failure. It was obvious that he didn't deserve, no, could never deserve, the positive regard of a woman like Helen Magnus. She had said to him the very same words his mother had, expressed the same faith in him, and he was utterly unworthy of it.

She knew. She had seen him breaking the law, and worst of all, breaking his word, though she didn't know about that at least. Had she seen him go into the...brothel, and just been too kind to say anything about it? He shook his head, attempting to deny the distressing thought. She had said she still respected him. Based on that, she surely could not have witnessed his extreme moral failings...There must be a limit to what she could forgive. Nikola hung his head. "Irredeemable failure..." he whispered.

...

Anna was surprised when the Serbian protested being stroked to release. He then refused comforting afterward as well. "Next time...you want only pain?" she asked tentatively. He nodded vigorously, buttoning his shirt and putting on his tie. "That not...how we do..." Anna concluded lamely. God she hated English. She sounded like an idiot! The Serbian cursed viciously and ran his hand through his hair in frustration at their inability to communicate. "Please, I want only pain." He said it slowly, trying to impress her with his seriousness. Anna sighed and nodded. "Да." He smiled wistfully at her and replied, "Да."

...

The professor and his female student had broken the barrier of formality between them. Behind closed doors 'Miss Magnus' became Helen and 'Dr. Tesla' became Nikola. Neither one of them cared about scandalous talk by the students. It was something Helen had dealt with her entire school career and Nikola was as usual oblivious to the "chattering of lesser minds" as he liked to put it. The time not spent on Helen's special project was often used to take meals together at the little cafe near the campus. There they discussed everything under the sun, lost together in an ecstasy of ideas.

Nikola continued his weekend routine of gambling followed by punishment and continued to refuse any pleasure or comfort afterward. Soon, he would surely find the strength to stop? He hoped so, yet his conflicted feelings over his love for Helen compelled him to seek the relief and distraction gambling offered.

...

"I really don't think that society must consist of superior and subordinate roles only. There must be an order to it of course, but isn't the goal of human relations ultimately the equality enjoyed by friends?" Helen asked rhetorically.

Nikola nodded over his soup, then replied anyway, enjoying the chance to debate with her as usual. "Well, the military is an obvious exception to that idea. Nothing could get done without obedience to a commander, and even in the most personal of relations, such as between husband and wife, there is a similar dynamic."

Helen scoffed, "A marriage can hardly be compared to military relationships." Nikola shrugged, "It is often thought that the man is the commander and his wife a loyal soldier, yet in my experience that is all a mirage. Men may like to think they are in charge, but it is their wives that hold the true power." Helen shook her head vigorously, "You are sadly mistaken. The law is such-"

Nikola cut her off, "I know the law well, and it is not what I am talking about at all. Men may have what the world considers power, but it is women that create life, preserve it, and love it. Their power is like that of the sun; without their work life would cease to be. A logical society would acknowledge that fact, strip men of all worldly power and give women what they are due." Helen smiled at his passionate assertion of the superiority of women.

"My mother created an entire family. She literally created life; Me and my sisters. When she fed us she sowed the seed, grew the crops, harvested them and cooked them into delicious meals. When she clothed us she raised the sheep, sheared the wool, spun the thread, dyed it, wove the cloth, sewed the clothing and embroidered on top of it all! As a child, I would watch her awed, as like a goddess she created my entire world. What did my father do? He contributed a little seed so to speak, and prayed at the church so he could give her a little money. With it she could buy a few luxuries. But necessities, they all come from women."

Helen laughed, delighted by his soliloquy. "You are the strangest man! What ideas you have!" Their lovely conversation was suddenly interrupted by a glamorous couple entering the cafe. The two were dressed in the height of fashion, except the man had unusually long blonde hair. Helen gasped, "Isn't that Dr. Kelly?" Nikola turned to look, cursed in Serbian then looked down at his soup, studiously ignoring the happy couple.

Helen watched as Dr. Kelly looked over to their table. His sea blue eyes met hers, glanced at the back of that lovely dark-haired head sitting across from her, then back at her. He smiled a bitter, unsurprised smile, then took his beautiful French wife by the arm and with a few excuses, led her out of the little cafe.

Helen said innocently, "I guess it was too busy for them." Nikola straightened up in his chair and smiled at her sheepishly. "I suppose they must be visiting Oxford, seeing the...old familiar places..." He trailed off sadly, then with an effort smiled at her painfully, "I'm glad you were here." Helen smiled gently and wished she could take his hand across the table. "I'd rather be nowhere else."

...

Nikola tossed and turned, haunted by the glimpse he got of Kenneth and his wife. What did she have that he didn't? Oh yes, only everything! Money, a shared interest in music, the ability to avoid scandalous talk and to have children. The real question was what didn't she have? And if Nikola was honest with himself, he was forced to conclude, nothing. How stupid to have fallen in love with...but no, he couldn't even think it. He had loved Kenneth, like a brother, like a lover, like everything. He couldn't help himself. It was a hot passion, like gambling. It had been unstoppable.

If only things had been different, if he had been different. Why couldn't he have been better, like Helen? So pure and...clean, powerful, in control. He doubted she had ever felt the burn of hot passion dragging her down, making her desire things and do things that she didn't want. No, she vibrated with cool, intellectual passion, every time she opened her mouth. Her thoughts were like lightning across a moonless night sky; exciting, illuminating, beautiful and endlessly mysterious. Finally, Nikola fell asleep, imagining Helen glowing with the flash of lightning across the Croatian sky of his childhood.

...

Nikola, dressed as a medieval prince, entered the dark castle, illuminated dimly and mysteriously by a blueish light. He climbed the narrow stone stairs of the tower reaching the heavy wooden door at the top. It swung open with a touch, revealing a cool, serene bedchamber. One a bed of pure white silk lay the princess, bewitched in a magical sleep, forever preserved at the height of her beauty. It was Helen dressed in the finest embroidered dress over a diaphanous white muslin slip. He watched entranced as her bosom rose and fell so slowly. She was deep asleep. He timidly approached the bed, drawn to her like a month to a flame. Somehow her face was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Unable to resist he leaned over and kissed her lips, so soft...

Nikola woke to the pitch blackness of his room. He touched his lips. The dream had seemed so real.

...

The castle door was open. Nikola made his way eagerly up the narrow stairs and opened the door to his princess's bedchamber. She was just as he had left her, but were her cheeks a little flushed? Was her bosom rising and falling with a more rapid breath? He came closer to find out and found himself staring at the thin muslin covering her full breasts. It was almost transparent yet in the dim blueish light he couldn't see if her breath was any faster than last time. Perhaps he could feel it? He laid his hand gently on her breasts. God, they were so soft!

He found his hands moving seemingly on their own, pulling open her beautifully embroidered bodice, squeezing the plush flesh through the thin cotton. It was wasn't enough and he ripped the thin cotton apart revealing her bare skin. It was so white he could see the blue blood running through her veins. The nipples were a delicate pink, soft and asleep as much as she was. He gently pinched them between his fingers, watching fascinated as they swelled and hardened. He leaned over to take one in his mouth-

Nikola awoke to his dark little room, his loins aching with lust. He groaned frustrated and disquieted by the dream. She had been so beautiful; surely it was impossible in real life.

...

The door to her bedchamber was open. She was just as he left her, breasts bared so that anyone entering the room could see them, touch them, do whatever they wanted to them, while she slept on, that deep oblivious magical sleep. Nikola realized that he was no longer dressed as a prince but in his usual black suit that he wore to class. He had the feeling that he was both himself and somehow watching himself. But in the way of dreams it somehow didn't seem strange.

He approached the bed and Helen's helpless uncovered body. He opened his trousers, pulled out his erection and climbed on top of the white silk bed. He watched as he straddled Helen's chest then used her breasts, thrusting between the soft globes, the velvety skin sliding gloriously against his hard heated flesh. He ejaculated over her, letting the pearly fluid run down and around her neck. Gorgeous.

Nikola woke as he orgasmed, wetting his underwear and the sheet. "Боже! God damn it!" He groaned then got out of bed to change. What the hell...

...

Nikola gently kissed her soft innocent lips. His princess slept on peacefully, letting him do whatever he wished to her, unmoved and untouched by the burning hot passion he could feel running through his veins with every beat of his heart. He couldn't resist any longer and pulled open his trousers. He watched as he stroked himself shamelessly over her innocently sleeping face. He could feel the moment of inevitability. Just before orgasm he pressed his thumb against her full lower lip, gently opening her mouth...

Nikola awoke, feeling a nauseating mix of lust and disgust. How could he even imagine...?! But he knew how. He remembered the way Kenneth had eagerly taken him in his mouth, how he had moaned ecstatically as he swallowed the white essence. But the idea of doing such a thing to Helen; it was utterly impossible. She would be so disgusted with him if she knew that he had ever even thought about doing such a thing to her! What was wrong with him, that some part of him wanted to defile his kind, dear friend this way? Especially, knowing that she had to remain pure and chaste. Nikola felt ashamed.

...

Nikola approached the pure white woman on the pure white bed with sinister purpose. Again he felt that he was simultaneously watching himself from above and experiencing everything he saw himself doing. He pulled up Helen's skirt, revealing her creamy white legs. Tearing away her underwear he exposed her defenseless sex. Pulling his swollen erection out of his black trousers, he crawled over Helen like a wolf settling over an injured lamb. Roughly, he thrust into her, invading her body, then watched helplessly as he animalistically rutted between her spread legs. Suddenly her eyes opened and her faced screwed up in horror as she breathed in to scream-

Nikola woke to find himself rock hard, aching with lust and with tears in his eyes. Was this going to happen every night? Would he dream of defiling and raping his dear friend in every way possible over and over until he went mad from guilt and put an end to it all?

...

Madame Ritter was surprised when Anna came out of her room mere moments after going in there with Mr. Tesla. Anna scowled and spoke to the Madame in rapid fire Russian. "He wants me to draw blood." Madame Ritter replied fluently in the same language. "Again? But he asked for it yesterday too." Anna shook her head angrily, "He wants the whip again. And he refused release or to be comforted afterward again."

Madame Ritter sighed. She doubted the boy could afford what he was requesting, not to mention that it was inadvisable. There was still the possibility of infection despite her precautions. And besides that, she was developing a soft spot for the young professor. He was lovely to look at, and such a charming conversationalist with excellent Austrian German. He was even about the age her own son would have been if he had survived childhood... Poor thing. He was obviously suffering an increase in guilt. What could be the matter? "Dress him and bring him out. I'll talk to him." Anna nodded sharply and went to retrieve the young man.

...

The young professor sat gingerly on the padded chair across from her. He looked miserable, his expression pinched and edgy. He groused sullenly, "I really don't understand what the problem is. I have the money and I'm fine from yesterday. It really wasn't so bad."

Madame Ritter sighed wistfully, "My dear boy, you did not accept forgiveness after your punishment yesterday. Why?" Mr. Tesla looked remarkably uncomfortable at the revelation that the Madame knew everything that went on in Anna's room. "Well, I, it has become clear to me that I don't deserve it." He managed to say the last with an almost defiant certainty, as if challenging her to prove him otherwise.

Madame Ritter smiled gently and said in a conciliatory manner, "There's nothing that can't be forgiven. And you are so young, there's hope for you to change for the better." Mr. Tesla shook his head sadly, "You're a kind woman to say that, but it is just not true. The woman I love has said much the same as you did just now, and she can never know how low I have sunk. I am a failure, a betrayer!"

The Madame raised a brow at the mention of his love for a woman. She thought to herself, 'Your lady love wouldn't happen to be a Miss Helen Magnus would she?' but held her tongue for fear the distraught young man might do something drastic if he knew that his love had witnessed one of his sessions with Anna. "You have fallen in love? And she knows about your gambling and forgave you? Who is this woman?" She hoped her motherly concern would draw out some details that would confirm her suspicions.

"Well, she is one of my students at the university. Extremely smart. Beautiful in manners, speech and dress. And she has such understandable eyes..." The Madame smiled, "What color are they?" "Hm? Oh, they're a dark blue, like a cornflower." "And her hair?" Mr. Tesla frowned slightly, "It's blonde. She is English, and its common enough after all." Madame Ritter smiled at his evident unconcern for his lady love's appearance. By the sound of it, she was definitely Miss Magnus. Eyes that were cornflower blue were rare indeed.

"She sounds lovely. I know you want to become worthy of her, and I want to help you do it, but being beaten bloody every day won't achieve that no matter how much better it makes you feel about yourself."

"Now listen to me my boy. What you must do is go out of your way to serve your lady love. Prove to her you can be chivalrous, a true gentleman in the best sense of the word. Make her aware of your affections and let her do with you whatever she wills. That is the only way to redeem yourself. She can save you, if you will bare your heart to her, and simply allow it."

Madame Ritter concluded her flowery, romantic speech only to have it shot down by Mr. Tesla's terse and angry words, "It's impossible. She is married to her work. She is as chaste as a nun."

Madame Ritter hummed thoughtfully. 'So, that's her problem...' "That is no obstacle! What greater love is there than one that is chaste and pure? Tell her you will never violate her, but only have the utmost respect for her. What more proof of true love could a man offer her?" Mr. Tesla shook his head, looking disgusted, "That's just it! I can't offer that. I'm on fire with lust for her! God, I'm sickened with myself."

Madame Ritter laughed, thinking, 'Oh my boy is growing up!' But she held her tongue and merely said, "Of course you feel that way. It is the weakness of men to be beset with lust, but it is the strength and duty of women to control it for them. Don't worry about it. You love your Englishwoman and will never harm her. Confess your love, yes, even your lust, but tell her of your resolve to resist it. She will do the rest."

...

After the young man left Madame Ritter went to her desk, retrieved Miss Magnus' card and wrote to her. 'Dear Miss Magnus, Your friend Dr. Tesla has fallen in love with you and is most distressed by it. He has developed carnal urges and feels terrible guilt for wishing to corrupt you. I have advised him to confess his feelings to you and throw himself upon your mercy, but he is afraid of losing his composure in front of you. It is my professional opinion that he needs you to take control of his life or he may take drastic measures. If he does not confess his feelings to you, you must confront him. Tell him you know that he desires to defile your chastity, than scold him like a child that is unable to control himself. Make it clear that you, as the offended party, have the right to discipline him for his inappropriate behavior. Please devise adequate means of repentance, as he is becoming too extreme in his desire for physical punishment. Sincerely, Madame Ritter"

...

Helen's hands shook as she read the letter. Nikola was in love with her, lusting for her, afraid of hurting her, and might hurt himself?! It was a nightmare come true.

"No, no, no! Please, this can't be!" Her dear teacher couldn't possibly want to... He couldn't be like... She cried as she read Madame Ritter's advice. How could she ever find the courage to do such a thing, even for the man she loved?

...

After class, Nikola called her to his office and they chatted awkwardly for a while, both uncomfortable and unwilling to ask each other why. Finally, Nikola visibly steeled himself and confessed, "Helen, I have fallen in love with you. I know it's not what you want and even if things were otherwise, I know I don't deserve you, but I just wanted you to know that I'll do anything you wish. Whatever makes you happy, I just want to do that for you, because it would...God this is so selfish, I'm sorry. I don't want to impose my desires on your life like this." Nikola hung his head and fidgeted with a pen.

He was still the absolute gentleman he had always been, considerate of her needs to the point of selflessness. Recalling the urgency of Madame Ritter's letter, that Nikola felt such guilt he was hurting himself, that he might do something drastic, and yet here he was trying to spare her feelings. Suddenly her fears seemed so irrational. This man could never hurt her the way...others had.

"You desire me, don't you." She said it softly, as though coaxing a confession from him. His stormy gray-blue eyes met hers fearfully, but calmed at the placid depths he found there. He silently nodded, and she reached across the desk to take his hand in hers.

"It's alright. You've been alone here in England for too long. I think you must miss your mother don't you?" The corners of his eyes softened and he nodded, suddenly boyish and shy. It reminded her of his expression when that woman Anna had held him to her bosom. She became aware of her feminine power as she said, "Since she is not here, I will have to take her place."

...

Nikola nodded and shuddered, acceptance of her new role in his life settling over him like a warm blanket. She began outlining the boundaries of his behavior. "From now on you will tell me everything. You will do as I say quickly and without question. You obviously aren't taking good care of yourself, smoking, eating poorly, and carousing every weekend."

She shook her head and scolded him. "Your mother would be ashamed to have such a son! To make up for your failings you will come to my house and do chores on the weekend instead. Is that understood?"

"Yes Helen." She tsked at his response, "Yes mother." She corrected him. He blushed and bowed his head to kiss her hand, "Yes mother. I will do just as you say." She smiled pleased by his obedience and he felt breathless with love and arousal. She was pure, clean, powerful, in control. Everything was finally as it should be.

...

END PART II


End file.
